Chapter 153: Global & Local (3)
Chapter 153: Global & Local (3)
“That was the creepiest thing I’ve heard on this trip. I actually pictured it. Please don’t say things like that anymore.”
“If you’re a woman, thoughts like that are unavoidable.” Sera smirked as she answered.
Jeremy groaned but did not argue. It certainly made for a good picture. Both of them were handsome, after all. He supposed it was not impossible for women to think that way.
…This isn’t the time to be thinking about things like that.
Jeremy cleared his throat. “Actually, there aren’t many places nowadays that focus solely on the cuisine of one country. Even if people have become accustomed to junk food, it’s undeniable that there are more food critics now than there used to be. And most of them want something interesting.”
“Ah, are you saying ordinary food isn’t interesting because they’ve already eaten it so often that they’re used to it?”
“You’re half right. People have become much more adventurous these days and try all kinds of new things… but honestly, when you start trying new things, you inevitably end up mixing in elements from other countries. On top of that, another country’s culture offers practically limitless possibilities… So is there really any reason to search for something new within only one country?”
Sera nodded as though she agreed with Jeremy. Then she looked at Jo Minjoon. “But anyway, aren’t you putting too much effort into expressing flavours, considering you’re a chef?”
“It’s precisely because I’m a chef.”
“…I’m jealous.”
“Of what?”
“That you can do both. Cook and taste. And you’re good at both.”
“It has its advantages and disadvantages. From now on, your life will keep being like this. You’ll be able to travel around the world, experience the care people put into their towns and restaurants, and taste new, fascinating food like what we’re having today. That’s a life I can’t have.”
“Are you consoling me?”
“I’m certainly not trying to tease you.” Jo Minjoon said that with a bright smile.
The next thing they ordered was sushi.
Samuel spoke with confidence. “I did my best to make sushi more delicious than what you’d get at a sushi restaurant.”
“…Is that even possible? I’ve been visiting sushi restaurants recently, and I realised the flavour changes noticeably depending on how the rice is shaped, the form of the sushi, how precisely the fish is sliced, and so on. Do you perhaps have a sushi master here?”
“No, we don’t. And that’s exactly why I thought about it even more carefully. How could I make excellent sushi without an experienced veteran? I considered removing sushi from the menu altogether, but I didn’t want to give up on… sushi, of all things, while serving fusion cuisine in Japan.”
“Then how… Ah, could it be…” The doubt vanished from Jo Minjoon’s eyes in an instant. He spoke as though he had found the answer. “You decided to make up for it through the recipe.”
“…How did you know?”
“I thought the same thing. If I were going to make sushi, how would I bring it as close to perfection as possible? There was only one answer. Excellent ingredients and a perfect recipe. And not just for sushi. It applies to everything. If my hand skills are lacking, then I have to make my head work that much harder.”
There was something peculiar in his voice. A faint bitterness, but also a refreshing lightness at the end.
Samuel smiled brightly. “So, did you manage to make up for it?”
“I have to keep trying. But finding ways to compensate for it was fun too.”
A sincere smile rested on Jo Minjoon’s lips. He liked cooking. Saying that he loved it would not have been an exaggeration. That was why he had chosen this path. The walls and mountains that now stood in front of him could leave him frustrated and full of regret, but he was still able to accept them with happiness.
[…I’m jealous. There’s nothing better than making a living doing what you love.]
[It must be even more fun when you’re talented at what you love. His whole life must feel enjoyable.]
[But the more I watch him, the stranger something seems. Minjoon acts like he thinks he’s seriously lacking. Should I take that as a good thing because he’s humble, or is he just stupid? The way he talks, he seems full of confidence.]
[He probably says things like that because his goal is so high that he isn’t satisfied with where he is now. I actually like that greedy side of Jo Minjoon.]
Comments about him flooded the chat, but Jo Minjoon did not react. It would have been embarrassing to respond to them, and he did not want to show that other people’s words could make him either happy or upset.
The dishes arrived.
There were three kinds of sushi. One was chicken norimaki wrapped in a kale leaf. Another was a square piece of boxed sushi made with several kinds of fish. The last was sea eel with crisped skin.
…Nine points.
And it was not just one of them. The sea eel sushi scored eight points, but the other two were both nine-point dishes. On top of that, the composition score was anything but ordinary.
Ten points.
That meant the combination of the three was perfect.
Just how good is this going to be…?
Jo Minjoon hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to eat the eel sushi first or start with the other two. Fortunately, he did not have to think for long.
Samuel spoke. “There’s an order to eating these. Start with the norimaki.”
At Samuel’s instruction, Jo Minjoon carefully lifted the norimaki. The grains of rice beneath the kale clung together almost like glutinous rice. Chicken and a piece of okra protruded from the end, and at first glance the okra looked almost like an unripe red chilli.
[Ah, I want to eat that.]
[Why am I watching this when my fridge is empty?]
When he brought it close to his nose, he caught the scent of sweet soy sauce rising from the okra, chicken, and kale. It resembled teriyaki sauce. Jo Minjoon placed the norimaki in his mouth with anticipation.
“Hee…” A reflexive moan escaped him.
Some viewers accused him of putting on an exaggerated Hollywood reaction, but that was not it. A nine-point dish simply had that kind of power over a person.
The texture of the okra beneath the kale was remarkable. Its skin, somewhere between a pea pod and a bell pepper, tore apart between his teeth, while the seeds inside burst in a way that almost reminded him of drinking something carbonated.
Considering how tightly the rice grains clung together like glutinous rice, the exterior was extraordinarily soft. Then, in the middle of all that, the tender, rounded texture of chicken thigh was added…
There was almost nothing more he could have asked for.
The teriyaki sauce was not ordinary either. It carried a faint fragrance.
Jo Minjoon looked impressed. “You put nutmeg in the teriyaki sauce?”
“You really did get it right.”
Samuel looked at him as though he should have expected nothing less from someone with absolute taste. Jo Minjoon looked uncomfortable.
“Anyone could figure out that much.”
“…I got it right too.” Anderson spoke quietly, then flushed when everyone turned to look at him. “What? Am I not allowed to get it right?”
“Well, it was unexpected. I didn’t think you were the type to participate in things like this.”
“Hmph.” Anderson turned his head away.
Samuel looked back at Jo Minjoon. Expectation was written all over his face. Absolute taste. Naturally, he could not help wondering how his food would be perceived by someone said to possess the most sensitive tongue.
But he did not ask. At least for now, he wanted to show some consideration for Jo Minjoon. Samuel suppressed his curiosity and said, “When the flavour starts to fade, eat the eel sushi. Ah, and don’t eat any ginger between them. These three are effectively a single dish.”
Jo Minjoon lifted the eel sushi, still not entirely understanding.
Its outer skin had puffed up, so it did not seem as though they had simply fried the eel. Had they dusted it lightly with flour or starch? The strange part was that the eel came in the middle rather than at the end. Fried food—and eel at that—would normally leave such a strong impression that it would affect whatever came afterwards. Jo Minjoon would have expected the eel to be served last.
Still, there had to be a reason. Otherwise, the composition score could never have reached ten.
Half doubtful and half curious, Jo Minjoon ate the eel sushi.
There seemed to be some kind of sauce beneath the eel, although he could not see it. The moment he bit down, however, he thought he could identify it even without help from the system.
A texture as soft as cream. The aromas of ginger and garlic suppressing the fishiness. A sweetness that brought fruit to mind.
It was a purée. One made from fruit, ginger, and garlic.
The ingredients…
Jo Minjoon began guessing without looking at the system. Perhaps because he had trained like this several times before, the precision with which his tongue perceived flavours had become noticeably sharper.
That was something his circumstances had given him: the awareness and effort required to develop a tongue worthy of the world’s expectations.
Even many food critics did not focus this obsessively on identifying ingredients. And even if they tried, they could never be entirely certain whether they were right. Most accomplished chefs did not reveal every ingredient that went into a dish.
Jo Minjoon, however, could know regardless of whether the chef told him.
Other food critics could solve the problem but never know for certain whether their answer was correct. Jo Minjoon had a perfect answer sheet called the ‘system’.
The difference was obvious.
And right now—
…Sudachi, honey, pear… No. It’s slightly different from that kind of freshness. What else is similar? Ah, right. Watermelon. It’s watermelon. And…
After listing every ingredient in his head, Jo Minjoon finally checked the system.
Then he smiled.
He had identified them all correctly.
Anderson, who had been watching from beside him, frowned.
“What are you muttering about? Ingredients?”
“…Ah, was I muttering?”
“You were seriously absorbed in it.”
Jo Minjoon smiled awkwardly at Anderson’s remark. Perhaps it was because of the freshness of the purée. He had detected no fishiness from the eel, and he had identified every ingredient correctly.
He felt proud of himself.
Then a comment in the chat caught his eye.
[Did you see that just now? When Jo Minjoon smelled it, Anderson watched him and copied him. He even chewed at the same time Minjoon did. He’s seriously conscious of him.]
…Is he really that conscious of me?
Jo Minjoon could understand it to some extent, but the thought also left him feeling a little guilty. There was a considerable gap between his actual ability and the talent the world believed he possessed.
Maybe that was why he worked even harder whenever Anderson was around. Just as Anderson wanted to become a worthy rival to Jo Minjoon, Jo Minjoon did not want Anderson to someday realise that he had been chasing a mistake.
Perhaps because of those feelings, Jo Minjoon looked more serious than ever as he prepared to eat the final sushi. There was also the fact that the previous two dishes had felt like preparations for this one.
Just how perfect would the finishing touch be?
Three kinds of fish were stacked on top of the boxed sushi. When he smelled it, a complex aroma reached him. There was clearly soy sauce in it, but he could not tell what else had been added.
The flavour was unusual. Before he could even decide whether it was delicious, the unfamiliarity itself left him confused.
First, he could clearly identify the fish: salmon back meat, tuna belly, and the outer flesh of rockfish.
The clean flavour of the salmon, the richness of the tuna, and the chewiness of the rockfish came together as though they belonged to a single fish.
But what was truly distinctive was—
“The flavours are different…” Jo Minjoon muttered absently.
It was exactly as he had said. Perhaps the fish had been marinated beforehand, because the soy sauce flavour in each one was subtly different. One was salty, one sweet, and one sour.
He could not see the recipe.
Naturally. It was a nine-point dish.
Ordinarily, he would have given up there. But today felt different.
Was it because people kept praising his sense of taste? Because of the clean, uncomplicated rivalry he shared with Anderson? Or, if it was neither of those things, because of the warm gazes of Rachel, Samuel, and the others?
Jo Minjoon analysed.
He worked at it with everything he had.
He focused on every piece of information reaching the tip of his tongue. He stopped caring what his eyes saw or what his ears heard.
Then he opened his mouth.
“The tuna… you rested it in soy sauce mixed with wasabi. Maybe because the fish is oily, you also added some fruit juice… and pear. The rockfish is the one you have to chew the longest, so you marinated it in vinegar soy sauce with a little pomegranate aroma, making sure the fragrance would remain until the end. And the salmon… you rested that in a lighter brewed soy sauce. Am I right?”
Samuel smiled brightly.
“That’s correct.”
“Real…ly?”
“Why are you reacting like this all of a sudden? You’ve been getting everything right until now.”
Instead of answering, Jo Minjoon merely gave him a trembling smile.
It was not something extraordinary.
It was ordinary. Simple.
And yet he had gotten it right.
He had read a field the system had refused to show him.
With his own tongue.
One step.
It was only one step…
But he had unquestionably taken it.